


Office to the Max

by GuiltyRed



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drugs, M/M, hint of smex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we probe the edges of Reno's inventiveness and ingenuity, and test the limits of Rude's and Tseng's endurance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office to the Max

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Office to the Max  
> Author: GuiltyRed  
> Rating: PG13  
> Warnings: hint of smex and drugs  
> Word count: 917  
> Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, Rude/Reno: alternative uses for office supplies - The 10 Reasons Why There's Never Any (author's choice) In the Office  
> Summary: In which we probe the edges of Reno's inventiveness and ingenuity, and test the limits of Rude's and Tseng's endurance.  
> A/N: This came to me as a series of short bits, ranging from canon-present all the way back through "Before Crisis" – with an additional drabble from an even earlier set of Turks. Can't help it: some things never change. XD

Tseng sighed and looked away from the carnage above him. “All right. I understand why we never have any pencils – that we can actually _write with_,” he stated, sidestepping one that decided, at that moment, to relinquish its flimsy hold on the ceiling tile. “And we all know Elena’s tendency to swipe the nice pens and sell them on the black market Below Plate. But why, in the name of Reason, is there never any…”

**Item One: Staples  
**  
“Reno, your suit is a disgrace,” Rufus hissed. “Be in my office in one hour, and for the sake of your job, be presentable!”

Reno slumped back in his chair and gave the closing door the finger. “Prissy bastard.”

Rude shook his head. He dug around in his desk for needle and thread. “All right, take it off, I’ll see if Fate owes me any favors.”

“Nah, partner, I’m cool, yo,” Reno stated with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got this covered.”

The slender redhead contorted around in his seat until his foot was in his lap, revealing the tattered fringe of a pants cuff gone wrong. He folded the fabric up into the pants leg until the damage was out of sight – “Eh, highwaters are better than wreckage, yo” – and reached for the stapler.

**Item Two: Post-it Notes**

“What the –” Tseng stared at the strangeness, then took a step back outside. No, this really was ShinRa Tower, he hadn’t wandered into the wrong building. Bracing himself, he strode back into the lobby.

Ribbons and banners of bright neon hung from the second floor bannisters, trailing down in a riot of color. From desktops and other furnishings in the lobby proper, pastel arrangements suggested flowers and butterflies and, in one extravagant case cascading from a file cabinet, a natural mako fountain.

“Whoohooooo!”

Tseng flinched, then made himself face the approaching noise.

Reno bounded down the stairs, taking three at a time. Rude and Cissnei followed at a more reasonable pace, but even they were grinning ear-to-ear.

“Reno!” Tseng barked. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Aw, it was GREAT, yo!” Reno enthused, bounding over to his commander with no visible lessening of energy. “Rude found [this thing](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y1rZqw5bXb4) on the Internet, and we HAD to try it!”

“We’ll clean it up, sir,” promised Cissnei, just this side of giggling.

“They’re probably still usable, sir,” Rude added, pragmatic as always.

“All right, I’ll leave you to it,” Tseng stated and turned toward the elevators.

He was doing just fine until Reno called after him. “It’ll be on the news, yo! Totally upstaged the President!”

Tseng banged his head on the smooth glass wall and asked the gods what, exactly, he had done to deserve this on a Monday.

**Item Three: Rubber Bands**

Reno paused to admire his creation, reaching one finger out to pluck it like a demented harp.

Woven between the uprights on a broken canteen chair, the web of rubber bands gave off a wobbly hum at his touch.

When he dragged the giant slingshot to the open window and reached for a paperweight, even Rude averted his eyes.

**Item Four A: Binder Clips 1  
**  
“No, I don’t think they’d make a good substitute for nipple clamps. No, not even if you used big clips with some packing material in the middle!”

**Item Four B: Binder Clips 2  
**  
“If you put a few dozen of them together like this, it makes a flower!”

**Item Five: Shipping Tape**

He paused by the men’s locker room door. Odd sounds emanated from within, the sounds of sweaty, naked men bringing each other to the brink of –

Tseng blinked himself out of this odd reverie and set about trying to decipher just what, precisely, he was really hearing.

No, that was a grunt of exertion, no doubt about that. And on its heels, a satisfied murmur.

“Yeah, that’s it, yo, just a little bit more… Perfect! Now, how about…”

Reno? Tseng scowled and pressed a little closer to the door.

“I don’t know, man, it kind of stings…”

Rude??

“Oh, but babe, you’re beautiful like this!”

Then Tseng heard the unmistakable sound of a tape gun.

“Aw, yeah!”

“I’m trusting you, Reno…”

“Don’t worry, babe, I know what I’m doing. Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever – AAAAGHHH!”

Unable to stand by and listen anymore, Tseng thrust the door open to confront his delinquent men, hoping to catch them in the act – any act, but his imagination supplied ample details.

Rude sat half-dressed on the bench, his bare chest heaving. His large hands cradled his head.

Reno stood beside him, fully dressed, tape gun clutched in his hands like a murder weapon.

“What in the name of Shiva’s tits is going on here?” Tseng demanded, glaring from one man to the other and hoping his disappointment didn’t show.

Reno shrugged. “Man likes it smooth and shiny, yo. How was I to know his skull would be more sensitive than his nipples?”

**Item Six: Liquid Paper (anybody remember this stuff?)  
**  
Veldt glowered at the supply cupboard and snarled, “Why is it, whenever I have to write a report for my boss, there’s no Wite-Write?”

Vincent Valentine looked up from his own desk and sniffed, his eyes wide and a little dilated. He quickly shut the tiny bottle and stuffed it into his pocket. “Dunno, partner. Maybe you should write it in pencil?”

Veldt sighed, defeated. “Speaking of which, why can’t I ever find a goddamn pencil around here – to _write with_, anyway?”


End file.
